


When It Becomes Too Much (Come To Me)

by XansyIsMoi



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blasphemy, Dandelion, F/M, Geralt has trouble speaking, Geralt is a wreck but Jaskier is there to help, Geralt is also lowkey touch starved, Geralt of Rivia - Freeform, Geralt z Rivii - Freeform, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Jaskier is protective, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Nonverbal Geralt, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sensory Overload, The Witcher - Freeform, Yennefer - Freeform, and expressing his wants and needs, but Jaskier loves him anyway, ciri - Freeform, geralt is emotional constipated, is that not a tag???, jaskier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XansyIsMoi/pseuds/XansyIsMoi
Summary: Jaskier almost looks away, but when he sees what happens next, he’s glad he didn’t. The bard plays the last strums of the tune, and the crowd before him applauds, shouting their praise and approval. Eyes still on Geralt, Jaskier watches the witcher flinch and duck his head a little, almost imperceptibly.Or, some scenarios are a bit too much for Geralt’s heightened senses, and Jaskier notices
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, geraskier - Relationship
Comments: 24
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been reading a LOT of Geralt/Jaskier fics lately and I just love them, so I wanted to write one myself! This is my first Witcher fic, and I would love feedback! Let me know what you think!  
> (Second chapter should be up soon)

Jaskier had always assumed that Geralt hung back simply because he didn’t like mingling and interacting with people. Here, in the tavern, from his position on the stage, Jaskier watched Geralt lingering in the shadows, stoic as ever, nose slightly wrinkled. 

Jaskier almost looks away, but when he sees what happens next, he’s glad he didn’t. The bard plays the last strums of the tune, and the crowd before him applauds, shouting their praise and approval. Eyes still on Geralt, Jaskier watches the witcher flinch and duck his head a little, almost imperceptibly. 

Once the applause dies down, Jaskier starts another song, making sure to keep an eye on Geralt when he finishes, and- same reaction? That’s... oh. 

_Oh_.

Jaskier could kick himself, it was so obvious. He bows to the crowd before him, thanks them for listening, and announces that he’s going to bed. They voice their complaints none too quietly, and Jaskier wants to shush them. He refrains from doing so. Instead, the bard makes his way over to Geralt, a bounce in his step. 

“Have you quite finished sulking? I’d like to go up to the room.”

Geralt levels Jaskier with a blank look, but nods his assent, as Jaskier knew he would.

“Yes.”

As the bard leads the way up the stairs to the rooms, he mulls over how to bring up Geralt’s... aversion to crowds. 

He ends up not saying anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier doesn’t spare another thought to Geralt’s heightened senses until after they’ve finished a battle and Geralt is covered in alghoul innards.  
> (Geralt and Jaskier fight alghouls in the woods and it doesn’t smell good at all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this this morning, but school... but I got it in today!! I’m really enjoying writing this, and I really appreciate the comments!! They make my day, and feedback is always great!!  
> TW: Not graphic, but throwing up is a thing in here, as well as blood/gore

Jaskier doesn't think about Geralt's odd reactions until they're on a hunt- rather, Geralt  was on a hunt and ended up having to save Jaskier's ass from the Monster of the Week. This week, it was a few monsters- alghouls. While they weren't necessarily uncommon, they weren't exactly easy to fight, especially when one was standing in the middle of a pack of them, already wounded from protecting a certain bard from being hurt. 

Panting, Geralt cast _I_ _gni_ , trying to force them back. The flames that burst forth made the Witcher's golden eyes glow, as if they themselves had ignited. Immediately following the flames, Geralt lunged forward, silver sword flashing in the dim light of the quickly-fading fire. The sounds of wet gurgling and shrieks were the only indication of the Witcher's sword hitting home. 

Dancing back toward Jaskier, who was still curled on the ground, Geralt turns, locking eyes with each alghoul that flanked them. When one takes a step forward into the circle, Geralt lets out an animalistic snarl, raising his blade.

"Jaskier, get up."

The bard stares up at Geralt, blue eyes wide and terrified, but he scrambles up onto his feet to comply.

"You take Roach and go. Get back to camp."

"Ger-"

" _Go_."

Before Jaskier can try to argue again, Geralt casts  _Aard_ , blasting the monsters back. He whistles for Roach before he steps forward and slashes at any alghoul that tries to approach Jaskier, then turns his head to shout at Jaskier, who's frozen in place, 

"Move it!"

Startling into motion, the bard takes off, narrowly avoiding the stray monsters that slip past the Witcher’s reach. Spotting Roach galloping towards them, Jaskier readies himself. 

Once she’s within reach, Jaskier catches hold of her and swings himself up into her saddle. However, the bard is not nearly as graceful as the mare’s owner, and nearly toppled off the other side. Righting himself and sparing one last glance to the blur of white hair, flashing blades, and gleaming golden eyes, Jaskier tugs Roach’s reigns and leads her away from the fight. 

Instead of returning to camp, however, Jaskier stops just within earshot, listening intently to Geralt’s battle with the alghouls. 

Listening was so much worse.

Jaskier could hear every time Geralt was struck, could hear his grunts and groans of pain- at one point, he even cried out. That had made Jaskier’s stomach churn. Finally- finally, the air went quiet and still. Jaskier hesitated a moment more, just to make sure, before he spurs Roach back towards Geralt.

Said Witcher was stumbling towards a tree at the edge of the clearing his battle had taken place in, panting hard. Jaskier had already slipped from atop Roach and started towards Geralt when the latter crumpled to his knees, leaned forward, and retched. Jaskier raced forward, throwing himself to his knees next to the Witcher before he reeled back. The stench of the alghouls’ guts and blood was like a punch in the face, and Geralt was absolutely covered in it. Regaining some composure, the bard returned to Geralt, who was still heaving.

“Geralt? Geralt, what is happening? Is it poison?”

The Witcher merely shook his head, spitting before he struggles to stand. 

“Smell- the smell, I-“

Geralt dry heaves, and Jaskier remembers what happened at the tavern. Heightened senses, it seems, have both ups and downs. The bard fits his shoulder under Geralt’s arm- not hard to do, there was an obvious height difference- and guides the mutant back to Roach, helping him into her saddle. 

When he’s certain Geralt won’t tip over, Jaskier swings himself up into the saddle behind the Witcher. Taking hold of the reins, Jaskier urges Roach into a gallop in the direction of the nearest town.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier takes care of Geralt. That's it. That's the whole chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I really didn't mean to take so long with this one, but,,, you know how schoolwork can get. Anyway, this one is a little longer than the others, so I hope that makes up for it. I appreciate all your comments so much, they really make my day! If you have any questions, suggestions, or requests, feel free to drop a comment! Enjoy!

Reluctant as he was to do so, Jaskier left Geralt at the stable with Roach. They were in some town, finally, right outside the tavern. Rushing inside, Jaskier orders a room and a warm bath immediately, then some food upon remembering that Geralt had... relieved his stomach of his dinner. He then hurried back outside to find that Geralt had slipped from atop Roach, and was now leaning heavily against her. It’s troublesome, getting Geralt inside. They didn’t go without protests.

“Ya didn’t say yer friend was a witcher!”

Jaskier sets his jaw, “You never asked. Besides, I paid you more than you asked for, and he needs help. Please, just give us a few nights, and we’ll be gone.”

The innkeeper grumbles before he nods, beckoning who Jaskier can only assume to be his daughter to help the bard. As she and Jaskier guide Geralt through the tavern, towards the stairs, Jaskier hears soft gasps and hushed words.

“Issat th’ witcher? Th’ White Wolf?”

“What’s ‘e doing here?”

“Fuckin’ _Butcher!_ ”

The last one is accompanied by the speaker spitting at the floor by Geralt’s feet. Geralt growls softly, quiet enough that only Jaskier hears it. Anger wells up in the bard, flushing his neck and cheeks and swathing his vision, but he bites his tongue. There will be time to give these ungrateful fools a tongue lashing later. For now, Jaskier helps Geralt up the stairs to their room, where the innkeeper’s daughter is heating water for the bath. She glances up at the pair when Jaskier settles Geralt in a chair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it.”

The daughter merely shakes her head, moving to dump her bucket of water into the tub, “Don’t worry about it right now.” Then, quieter, “What happened to ‘im?”

Jaskier starts unfastening Geralt’s armor, batting said Witcher’s hands away when he tries to help. Geralt glowers in protest, but looks too nauseated to argue.

“Alghouls. There was a contract.”

The girl simply nods and continues her business. The bard sets Geralt’s various armor pieces and weapons on the floor carefully, promising the Witcher that he’d wash them as soon as the man himself was clean. The girl fills up the tub and leaves with the promise to return with food shortly. 

While she’s out, Jaskier manages to strip Geralt of his clothes and coax him into the water. He’s not as dirty as his armor, just those parts of his body that were exposed; his hands, neck, face, and hair. Jaskier takes a rag, dips it into the water, then- after glaring at Geralt with a look that very obviously said ‘let me do this or gods help me’ when the Witcher began to protest- began to wipe away the grime and guts. Jaskier started with his wolf’s face and hair, careful as ever. Once he was finished there, he moves to Geralt’s neck, then to his hands. By that time, the girl had returned with their supper.

“Will you be needin’ a water change, Master Witcher, sir?”

Jaskier looks to the blood and dirt in the water and nods an affirmative to the girl, who scurries off. Jaskier gets Geralt up and out of the tub, then gets some trousers on him before she comes back and begins changing the water. Jaskier finds a little relief in the fact that Geralt looks a little less pale, a little more like himself. He’s no longer taking slow, controlled breaths through his nose, as if to stave off nausea. When the innkeeper’s daughter finishes, she bows out of the room with the promise to return come morning with breakfast.

Jaskier rummages through his satchel quickly, retrieving a tiny vial. When he notices Geralt watching him, he explains, “It’s lavender oil. Don’t worry- I’ll only use a drop or two. Just to help wash away the scent.”

True to his word, Jaskier only drips two drops of the oil into the water- just enough that Geralt could smell it, but not have it be overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if Jaskier was aware of his heightened senses, or if he figured that Geralt didn’t like lavender- but he was grateful, nevertheless.

When he’s corked the vial and stowed it back in his bag, Jaskier turns and helps the Witcher back into the water, leaning him back against the edge and grabbing the washrag. The bard starts at Geralt’s face, gently wiping away any residual dirt and blood from his pale skin. If his hand lingers a little longer than strictly necessary on Geralt’s cheek, well- that’s nobody’s business. Jaskier cleans Geralt’s hair, using a little soap to return it to it’s original milky white, then using some more soap on the rest of his body. He’s careful around the wounds, easing up when he feels Geralt’s breath catch in his chest. Jaskier hums under his breath as he works, and Geralt feels himself relax a little more. His stomach is no longer churning and he doesn’t need to hold his breath- in fact, the lavender is... actually quite soothing. It reminds him of his lark. Speaking of...

“Alright- come on. Up you get. I’ll dress your wounds and then you can go to sleep.” Jaskier speaks softly, as if to not startle his wolf. Geralt simply nods and complies, standing and drying off as best he could before he pulls on his smallclothes. Jaskier is rummaging through Geralt’s medicinal bag, pulling out various potions (after one particularly bad fight- in which Geralt was almost completely incapacitated- Jaskier demanded that Geralt teach him about the potions. Geralt was almost surprised that Jaskier remembered everything.) and ointments, along with bandages. The Witcher settles awkwardly on his back on the bed, one side of his body lifted so as to not aggravate the stab wound halfway up the left side of his back. He scowls. He should have used _Axii,_ should have forced the alghouls’ spikes back into the monsters.

“Whatever you’re thinking of, stop it,”

The bard smears salve on the claw marks that run across Geralt’s chest, then bandages it.

“You need to relax, not work yourself up again.”

Geralt remains silent as Jaskier finishes patching him up. Golden eyes meet blue ones, “Were you hurt?”

Jaskier gives a lopsided grin, “Just a scratch. I got more dirty than hurt.”

Geralt feels some tension leave his body as he nods and shifts to slip from the bed. He pulls on his trousers and shirt before he murmurs, “The water should still be warm.”

Jaskier tilts his head and nods, "Yes, but that can wait. You feel up to eating?" He pointedly doesn't say why he's asking, and he says it so casually that Geralt can't even feel shame. He simply nods. Jaskier smiles, "Excellent."

Their dinner is simple- meat and vegetable stew, and a roll of bread. Nothing special, but better than what they normally eat. It's warm and filling, and by the time they finish, Geralt is ready to nod off. His bard carefully pries the bowl and spoon from his hand, setting it on the tray then leaving said tray right outside the door. 

"Get some rest, Geralt."

Once Geralt is in bed- one arm on top of the blanket, the other hand under his pillow, close but not touching his dagger- Jaskier begins to undress and bathe himself. Discreetly, he glances at Geralt from time to time. The fourth time he looks up, the Witcher is asleep. Smiling fondly, Jaskier finishes up then tugs on his pants and shirt.

Geralt doesn't even stir when Jaskier slips into bed behind him. In fact- maybe Jaskier is imagining things- it seems like the Witcher relaxes further into the mattress. Jaskier pushes it from his mind and settles in to sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier get a rude awakening, because I can’t give them a break. Mostly angst, with a teeny tiny bit of fluff at the end, if you squint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I started writing this chapter like a week ago and found it again today, then spent the last two hours writing the rest of it. It’s a little longer than usual. I hope you enjoy!

Geralt awoke to smoke. Normally, this would be fine- him and Jaskier usually have a campfire before they sleep. Tonight, however- smoke should not be present. Not in this quantity. The Witcher bolts upright, looking around the room he and Jaskier had rented for the night. The smell was stronger, facing the door.

“Jask.”

Geralt reaches a hand back to grab Jaskier’s shoulder and shake it, “Bardling, get up.” 

Stirring, Jaskier stretches and groans.

“Whaddya want, you brute?” He squints at Geralt, blue eyes bleary. When Geralt turns to face him, alarm sharpening his golden gaze, Jaskier sits up, a little more alert.

“What is it? What’s-“

That’s when he catches a whiff of the smoke.

Without hesitating, they launch out of the bed and dash about the room, collecting their belongings. Not two minutes later, their things collected, Geralt throws open the room door. He curses loudly as smoke floods the room and immediately slams it shut again.

“The window.”

Jaskier whirls and heads towards it, flinging open the shutters. Luckily, they were right over the stables- the slanted roof meant they wouldn’t have to fall too far, and there was likely to be hay to land on. Geralt ushers Jaskier out first, handing him their various possessions through the window before climbing out, himself. He winces as the action pulls on his still-fresh wounds. 

Jaskier is by the edge of the roof, dropping their things into the hay below. Once all the bags were on the ground below, both Witcher and bard drop from the roof. Jaskier stumbles and lands on his side in the hay, and Geralt lands on his feet, gritting his teeth as the pain flares along the claw marks marring his calves and torso. 

They recover quickly, the night unnaturally warm with the flames blazing inside the tavern, gathering their belongings and untying Roach from inside the stable, guiding her towards the crowd gathering in front of the establishment. In awe of the flames that slowly lick up the walls before them, no one notices the silver-haired man and his blue-eyed companion.

“Yelena!”

The innkeep starts forward, towards the building, flinching back when a support collapses inside and sends tongues of fire through the door. Looking around the crowd, Geralt puts two and two together, and the innkeep cries out again, panic breaking his voice.

“Yelena!”

The kind girl who’d helped Jaskier and Geralt- the innkeep’s daughter- was still inside, trapped in the building that was crumbling before their very eyes. Without a second thought, Geralt presses Roach’s reigns into Jaskier’s hand and races forward, into the burning tavern. He can hear Jaskier scream behind him, can hear the fear that makes his words sharp as he orders Geralt to come back, but Geralt has already disappeared into the flames. 

It’s one of the worst things Geralt has ever experienced. The heat is everywhere, bearing down on him. The flames are loud and bright, destroying everything it can reach. He has to resist using  _Aard_ to extinguish it- the supports already looked weak. He didn’t want to collapse the ceiling. The smoke is suffocating, stealing his air and burning his eyes. 

Geralt feels like he’s going to pass out, just from this. He wants to take a deep breath, steady himself, but the smoke is cooking him from inside, burning his lungs and throat. Lifting his shirt to cover his nose and mouth, the Witcher squints, straining his ears to hear anything, anything that might tell him where Yele-

“-elp!”

There.

Geralt strains harder, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Help me!”

Geralt turns towards the bar and runs, weaving between tables and flame-encompassed supports. Hurtling over the bar, he sees her- Yelena- trapped beneath a shelf. And, damn, if that isn’t the worst place to be. The shelf had been holding various wine bottles, which now lay shattered on the floor. If a spark were to catch that... Yelena looks up as Geralt approaches, almost sobbing in relief. 

The Witcher grabs the shelf and heaves, waiting for the girl to slip out from under it before he lets it fall again. She stands quickly and they take off, slipping from behind the bar, door in sight-

Geralt grabs Yelena round the waist when he hears groaning, pulling her agains himself and whirling, curling over her just as the ceiling collapsed, right over where they would have been if they’d kept running. The support that’d been holding it up also collapsed, effectively blocking their path to the door. 

Geralt vaguely registers the black that creeps into his vision, has long since blocked out the feeling of smoke in his lungs. But it’s too hard to to push away, now, and everything floods him. He almost doesn’t realize Yelena is yelling something at him.

“The cellar! It leads out back!”

Blinking, Geralt releases her and follows when she runs back towards the bar, slipping behind it then vaulting over the fallen shelf, rushing into the kitchen. There’s fire on every available surface, and Geralt flinches back. It was hotter in here than in the dining room. Yelena dashes across the room, pausing in the opposite corner and bending over to grab a handle. Geralt runs after her, hissing when he feels a stray tongue of fire catch his leg, quickly searing through his pant leg and burning his calf. 

Quickly, he slaps at it, smacking it until it goes out. Hearing Yelena yelp, he looks up to see her clutch her hand, glaring at the cellar trapdoor before her. The handle was a thick metal ring, and- this was really going to hurt. Geralt reaches down and grabs it, gritting as the heated metal bites into his palm, burning it’s shape into his skin. 

Yelena scampers down the stairs and Geralt jumps down after her, releasing the metal handle- wheezing when he feels some of his skin stick to it and rip from his palm- and letting the trapdoor fall shut behind them. Miraculously, there’s no fire down here- and thank the gods for it. There’s shelf after shelf of barreled ale. Yelena’s already moving, and Geralt startles into movement when he sees her halfway across the cellar. There’s another set of stairs, another heavy trapdoor- then they’re free. 

What was once warm air now felt like a winter’s blessing on the Witcher’s skin, and from the harried smile on Yelena’s face, he figured she felt the same. They circle around the side of the tavern -giving it a wide berth- and stumble towards the group of villagers out front. 

“Yelena!”

“Geralt!”

Both the innkeep and Jaskier race forward, the innkeep to his daughter and the bard to his Witcher. Geralt can see Jaskier’s cheeks shine with fallen tears, and feels vaguely guilty.

“Are you alright?”

Jaskier’s hands are flitting over him nervously, and Geralt flinches away. Immediately, Jaskier’s hands return to wring themselves in front of his abdomen.

“Come along, we must-“

“Witcher!”

Both Geralt and Jaskier look up at the shout to see the crowd all facing him. One man- Jaskier recognizes him at the one who spat at Geralt earlier and feels his stomach drop- takes a step forward. 

“This is yer fault. Ye shouldn’t ‘ave come ‘ere. Yer a curse.”

Jaskier hears the quiet intake of breath beside him and clenches his fist, opening his mouth before he’s interrupted by someone new.

“Yer an abomination!”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd, and other villagers chime in.

“This is your fault!”

“The Gods made a mistake in bringing you into this world!”

“Go back to where you came, mutant!”

Jaskier raises his voice, “This is not his fault! He had nothing to do with this, you ungrateful pricks-“

“Freak!”

“We don’t want yer kind ‘ere!”

Yelena is tugging at her father’s arm, “No! He’s not bad, he saved me! You have to listen-“

“Butcher!”

“Monster!”

“No, please, listen! He’s-“

That’s when the first stone arced through the air, landing a few feet behind Geralt. Another followed, then another, until Geralt was shoving Jaskier towards the road that leads out of town and whistling for Roach to follow. Some villagers trail after them, hurling more stones and rocks after the pair as they run out of town. Every stone is another word, driving daggers into Geralt’s back and twisting Jaskier’s heart. The stones and yelling finally ease into silence when Geralt, Jaskier, and Roach are a little ways away from the town border, following a narrow trail into the woods. 

No longer in immediate danger, they walk in relative silence, broken only by Geralt’s occasional cough and wheezing breath. He can breathe easier, but his breath still scrapes his throat. He’s so, so tired. He’s tired and dirty and hurting and-

Geralt stops, standing in place, Roach’s reigns clutched in his good hand. Jaskier turns to face him.

“Geralt?”

Geralt’s staring at the ground, looking far too small. Jaskier sighs softly and steps closer. Tentatively, he reaches a hand up to cup Geralt’s cheek. When the Witcher doesn’t pull away, Jaskier rubs his thumb against Geralt’s cheekbone, voice lowered to a whisper.

“Oh, my sweet wolf. Don’t you believe a word they said. They don’t know you.”

Geralt’s gaze shifts to meet Jaskier’s. His voice is raw and rough, and Jaskier can’t imagine how much it hurts to talk.

“I’m tired.”

It was unsurprising, so Jaskier simply nods.

“Of course. You tie up Roach, I’ll set up camp. Alright?”

In lieu of responding, Geralt leads Roach to a tree and ties her to it while Jaskier lifts their bags and Geralt’s saddle from her back, laying them on the ground. He makes quick work of setting up camp, rolling out the bedrolls and reorganizing their things. He pulls out a pair of Geralt’s sleep clothes and looks to where the Witcher still stands by the tree to which Roach is tied to.

“Would you like to change?”

It takes a few beats for Geralt to rasp out, “No use.” Smoke was caked to his skin, had stuck to his sweat and baked itself into his skin. He’d need a bath in the morning- needed one now, but was too tired to bother. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to stop thinking. Jaskier hums and carefully places the clothes back into the bag before he stands and moves over to Geralt, taking his hand and leading him to the bedrolls.

“Lay down.”

Automatically, Geralt complies, laying down on the mat. Jaskier follows. Then the bard reaches out a hand to lay on Geralt’s bicep, and the Witcher wonders if he should treat the burn on his palm. As soon as he thinks it, he discards the thought and closes his eyes. 

He can still feel the heat of the flames, and can smell the acrid smoke on his skin. But when Jaskier begins to hum a soft tune, the roaring on the fire fades to silence, and the heat cools to match the night air around them. Somewhere around an hour later, Geralt slips into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, but work nonetheless. Be sure to leave a comment if you liked it- or if you disliked it (please tell me why, if so) comments really do make my day!! Also, I’m thinking of starting a Highschool AU Geraskier fic, where Jaskier likes to lounge on the benches by the football field and play his guitar while Geralt is at practice. What do you guys think? Let me know in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier ponders as Geralt sleeps and comes to realize a truth. When Geralt wakes up, Jaskier shares it with him- fluff ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out! I was working on a big school event for awhile, and now a friend and I are working on a big project, and aaaaa! It’s just been a lot of work, lately, but I promise to try and do better. Be sure to leave a comment and tell me what you think, they make my whole week! Enjoy!

Jaskier lays awake long after the witcher falls asleep, listening to the man beside him and the sounds of the forest beyond that. He thinks of the village they’d just been run out of, and a flash of rage blinds him for a moment before he shakes his head, blinking the red away. It wouldn’t do any good to get angry right now- wouldn’t do any good to get angry at the village, in general. What’s done is done. 

No doubt, the villagers would be spreading lies of the night’s happenings, sullying Geralt’s already questionable reputation. The bard sighs and sits up, feeling helpless. There’s nothing he can do about this situation other than what he’s already been doing. 

He scoots back to lean against the tree at the head of their bedrolls, tilting his head back to examine the stars that would soon disappear in the light of dawn. 

Jaskier thinks of Geralt, the way he looked walking away from the village- shoulders hunched to provide some protection against the stones the villagers threw, golden eyes downcast and dull, mouth pressed into a tight line. And when they’d stopped for camp- no witcher should ever look that small. Geralt’d simply looked defeated and tired and hurting. Not just from battling alghouls and flames, but entirely different monsters. The words of arrogance and the demons of his own mind. 

Jaskier looks down at the man beside him. Geralt was facing Jaskier, curled up on his side. The bard slips lithe fingers into silvery hair, greyed by the smoke that clings to it and sighs.

“They should be afraid, dear. But not of who you are. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever known. But you’re also the only one who can see who they really are.” Jaskier trails his fingertips along the curve of Geralt’s jaw.

“Humans are the worst monsters of them all, aren’t they?”

“Shouldn’t say things like that.”

Jaskier startles at the sound of Geralt’s grumble, snatching his hand away and fumbles to find his words when Geralt opens his eyes, still dull, and looks up him.

“I-I didn’t mean you wake you.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. Geralt breaks it first, “Humans aren’t monsters. Don’t say they are.”

“Geralt-“

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s voice is tired and soft, and fhe bard barely refrains from snapping. He chooses instead to take a deep breath and look away, into the woods that are beginning to lighten with the sky. After he gathers his thoughts, Jaskier speaks softly, gaze still directed into the woods beyond.

“They hurt you, Geralt. Bad. Please, don’t try to say they didn’t, because I know they did. I know you. No matter how many times you say it, I know you feel emotions- maybe even more than we do. That’s why you went in and saved that girl. That’s why they said those things.” Jaskier’s gaze drops into his lap, where his hands fidget.

“You saved that girl, and they purposefully turned the story around to make it your fault, not that it’s the first time- but I don’t have to tell you that. That’s why they’re monsters, Geralt. They hurt you for helping them, repeatedly. I know the truth, and I won’t let you tell me otherwise.”

They slip back into silence as Jaskier finishes and looks back up to the sky, watching it turn pink. Any trace of night is gone by the time Geralt sits up, wincing faintly and reaching up to trail a hand along the bandaged claw marks on his chest.

“Not all humans.”

Jaskier sighs and turns his head to give Geralt an exasperated look, only to find that the witcher was already looking at him, eyes almost clear and expression almost- fond is the wrong word. Geralt’s version of fond, as if he wants to be loving, but can’t quite get there yet. 

Jaskier’s heart clenches in his chest as he understands Geralt’s words, and anything he might’ve said to it promptly disappears from his tongue. Instead, he stammers out, “Let’s get you washed up. There’s gotta be a river around here somewhere, and you’re filthy.”

The almost-smile he gets in return is almost blinding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say- Geralt usually sleeps on his back (shows that he’s alert and ready to defend from an attack from any side) or with his back to Jaskier (he trusts him at his back)  
> But Geralt sleeping FACING Jaskier is somehow an even bigger show of trust and shows how much he wants- comfort and love and affection and Jaskier. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading :)


End file.
